


Nine Years (Reylo AU)

by i_am_obsessed



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo is After Rey, F/M, Rey is a Fugitive, Rey on the run, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo AU Week, nine years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_obsessed/pseuds/i_am_obsessed
Summary: Agent Ben Solo has chased Rey across countries, planets, and galaxies for nine years and she never found out why. This is what happens when he finds her -- as Rey Pallandino -- hiding on a planet called Earth in a land called Italy.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Nine Years (Reylo AU)

“Io sono moi stanca,” I sigh, as I swing open my door to see—him. He found me, again. The tall agent from Chandrila, towering over me with those same pretty dark eyes and same strong frame. His hair is different from the last time I saw him. So is mine.  
I see that flash of recognition when our eyes meet. “Rey Palladino?” he asks, holding up that official-looking badge. I laugh softly. He knows it’s me, I can feel it, but he still goes through the motions.   
“Vino?” I offer, holding up the glass I’m clutching. He looks a bit surprised at this casual offer—after all, he’s spent nine years looking for me. 

Nine years. 

Seven planets.

Thirteen identities.

Countless back alleys, stolen ships, empty houses. A prison or two.

I turn on my heel and glide carelessly back into the secluded cottage behind me. “So,” I ask as I pull down a glass from the shelf and fill it with strong, dark wine, “What gave it away? Did you get a tip-off? I can’t imagine that’s likely. No ho amici.” I don’t have friends.   
Leaning on the stone counter in my kitchen, I watch him step through the doorway. He has to duck to get his exaggerated body through. You've lost weight, I think, since I’ve seen you last. 

He looks at me sharply, as if he can hear my thoughts. One eyebrow is arched slightly at this bienvenuto caldo. A battered black bag hangs from his right shoulder, and a long, black coat billows out behind him like a cape. 

I continue. “I’ve covered my tracks with hair-splitting precision. I’ve burned every single bridge I ever built—sometimes literally,” I chuckle, “and yet, you’ve still found me. Again.  
“Sedere, per favore” I instruct. “We have much to discuss.”

At last, he speaks. “Whatever we have to discuss, it’s not happening here.” A professional tone coats his deep, smooth voice—does he think it’ll make me more complacent?

“I really would be more comfortable here,” I tell him, striding over and handing him a full glass of wine, “so sit.” I let the Force slip out of me for just a moment on that last word, and the power of it takes him off guard and pushes him into a leather chair. The look on his face is knocked off-kilter and his luscious dark eyes flash. 

I sit down across from him. “Do you ever wish you hadn’t hunted me this this long? Because it’s not just one life you’ve ruined, it’s two.”

“You don’t know anything about my life,” he snaps. 

“What a defensive creature you are, agent,” I shoot back. I’ve touched a nerve. His eyes flicker down to the bag he’s brought with him. An internal window is opened, and I can see just a bit of turmoil in his mind. 

Suddenly, though, it’s as if someone’s hit a switch. He’s professional again as he fiddles with the clasp on the bag. “This bag contains nine years’ worth of evidence of your whereabouts, identities, and activity—“

“—and I still don’t know why,” I finish. “I have no. Idea. Why. You. Are. Chasing. Me.” My insides are boiling. “You know what you are? You’re a monster.”

“I have a name,” he says quietly, meeting my eyes. 

“And I have thirteen.” I stare right back at him. 

His jaw hardens in anger. I’m not giving him what he wants, and he hates me for it. Oh, does he hate me.   
His hair is longer than it was last time I saw him. It caresses his sharp jawline, jet-black and wavy, like he’s just been in the ocean.  
I would never admit this to anyone, not even myself—but I don’t want him to hate me. Seeing that open anger on his face cuts through my chest with a physical pain. He’s the only person that has remained consistent in my life; true, he’s been hunting me down, trapping me, robbing me of my life. But he’s been there, for nine whole years. He’s devoted to me. He needs me. I matter, somehow.   
Hot tears sting my eyes, so I draw in a sharp breath and take a long drink of my wine, breaking our eye contact. 

He clears his throat. “You know, um—“ he opens the bag, “—this bag has nine years’s worth of evidence, but—“ he pulls out one medium-sized, leather-bound envelope, —“this was all I was able to collect. Over nine years. You’re…pretty good.” Is he blushing? He grabs his glass and takes a large gulp.

“Grazie.” Is he complimenting me for being a good fugitive? 

I’m just about to ask to see the envelope when he starts coughing violently, spraying wine all over me. I jump up, shocked. Is he ok? Oh, God, and now I’m soaked in wine that was once IN HIS MOUTH. 

“Can—can I—are you—“

“What the hell is in this?!” He chokes out. “I’ve never—had anything this—this strong before—“ 

He’s choking because the wine is too STRONG? 

I burst into laughter, sliding out of my chair and onto the floor, collapsing in a fit of laughter. “Every single time we’ve fought and THIS is what takes you down? Wine?” I can’t breathe, I’m laughing so hard.

Through his choking, he starts laughing, too. He climbs out of his chair and moves over to me on his hands and knees. “Remember—when you gave me this?” He’s pointing to the long scar down his face that I gave him in our first confrontation. “And I still got back up! But this wine—and now I’m here—“ he’s laughing again, harder this time, and the unexpected sound makes me laugh harder, too. What a pair we are. 

It occurs to me that I’ve never heard him laugh before. It’s a high sound, airy, sounding as if it’s bursting forth from his chest. 

I love it. 

Wait, wait, what? 

“And—and—when your little friend stabbed me in the side—what was his name?” I won’t think about Finn now. It hurts too much. “I was bleeding all over the snow, but I still fought you!”

“Ok, ok, don’t flatter yourself,” I snicker, “I still got away—and it was more like ME fighting YOU.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” he chuckles. We sit there, enemies, side-by-side, until our laughter starts to die down. 

I look over at him, suddenly sobered. “What is this?”

“What?”

“How can we just sit here like this, laughing? Aren’t you supposed to be capturing me?”

“I—“

“NO! This is NOT—I don’t—you and I are not friends. I run, you find me, I run again. That’s how it goes,” I snap, turning away from him and standing up. “So now, you’re going to tell why you’re here. Why I’m important enough to you that you’ve never left me alone, never stopped looking for me.   
“And the longer you talk, the longer you stay alive, because once I’ve finally found out why you’re after me—“ I summon my lightsaber from the other room and ignite it, “—Ho intenzione di ucciderti.” I'm going to kill you.

Ben Solo’s hurt eyes pierce through mine as I level my weapon at his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU for reading!!!!!! I'm really liking this whole new Reylo dynamic...Please let me know what you think.
> 
> stay alive xoxo


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